


Chance

by OtakuElf



Category: Modesty Blaise - Peter O'Donnell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willie Garvin must have left some children behind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance

Sue Collier was not enjoying the Conference for Paranormal Research. The hotel was nice enough - if situated on top of a hill above a small rural town. The food had been excellent. The tall, slim, blonde parapsychologist was finding the presentations a little dull. Metrics and statistics were more of her father’s thing. Sue’s interest was in practical applications of paranormal talent. It did not help that Professor Stephen Collier, her beloved father, was the keynote speaker, and so Sue was being handled with kid gloves by everyone involved, including the men her age in the field. Yes, Sue wanted to be taken seriously. Yes, she wanted to be respected for her work, and gender should not matter, did not matter as it once had, though there were still moments… 

Now Susan Blaise Collier was sitting in the hotel’s small secondary bar dressed comfortably in a gem blue cotton tunic over black leggings, drinking a "Paris is Burning" which had been recommended by the bartender. She was watching a party of older men and women doing the Lindy hop on an incredibly tiny mahogany dance floor. Hair cut in a short bob to her chin, she wore minimal makeup, and no jewelry. Sue felt unnoticeable. 

Sitting next to her, perched easily on the leather topped bar stool as he leaned back against the dark solid wood of the bar was a man who looked vaguely familiar. Big, blonde, fit, he could not be called handsome - more craggy than distinctive - but there was something attractive about him. He was dressed casually, a short sleeved cotton shirt with grey slacks, not in the least like the man to the other side of Sue, a weedy character who was wearing a vivid Hawaiian shirt, long shorts, and socks with sandals. Physically the big man did not fit in with the conference attendees, most of whom were academicians. Sue gave up trying to look at him without staring. “Excuse me, but have we met before? You look very familiar.”

Even as the words left her mouth she cringed inside. Trite, and sounding exactly as though she were looking for a pickup. Though she felt drawn to him, Sue did not think it was just because of sex. The man turned from his contemplation of the dancers to smile at her. “No, I don’t think I know you. I’d have remembered. My name’s Will. Will Garvin.”

Sue choked on her sip of the brandy and Chambord cocktail and started coughing. “Willie Garvin?,” she asked when her throat was clear.”

“No. Will,” he was looking at her with some interest now. “Not many people know the name Willie Garvin. Not anymore. How did you know him?”

“He was my uncle growing up.” Sue flushed at the looks she was receiving from the bartender and others and lowered her voice, “He and my parents were friends with him and with -”

“Modesty Blaise,” Will Garvin sounded thoughtful, and Sue realized that his accent was American, not at all like Uncle Willie’s cockney.

“Aunt Modesty,” Sue nodded, “You look very like Uncle Willie. You don't sound much like him though.”

“Ah. Well, there are reasons for that,” Will grinned making the likeness all that more apparent, “and it is nice to hear it.”

Sue laughed, “aaand you’re not going to tell me what it is, though I can probably guess. Related by blood?”

“His son,” the big blond man took a drink and turned his attention back to her, “Will you tell me what you remember of him?”

“Did you ever meet him?” Sue was curious.

“No, which is why I’d like to hear about him.”

Sue pushed honey blonde bangs back from her face, “Well, it was a long time ago. Most of my memories are of him taking my brother and me out and letting us do things we were sure were going to get us in trouble. Mom and Dad never minded, even if we came home covered in dirt with our clothes a mess. He taught us how to shoot a rifle. Not for hunting. Just targets, but they moved, so it was more fun. And bows and arrows, like in the old westerns.”

“You any good?” His question pleased Sue, though she hesitated a fraction of a second before answering. Comparatively well. What had she heard those two icons arguing about when she was small? Comparing ease of use by the majority? Or how well one individual did with a weapon?

“No," she settled for admitting, "Not really. Not anywhere in Uncle Willie’s or Aunt Modesty’s league. How about you? Do you shoot? Or throw knives like your Dad?” Sue wondered if he’d been asked that question before, and if he was tired of hearing it.

“No. Nothing like their league,” was his response. The corner of that wide mouth quirked up.

“I don’t think,” Sue said thoughtfully, “That there will ever be anyone in their league. They were each unique.”

“So I have been hearing all my life,” and although he took another drink, Sue didn’t think he sounded bitter about it.

“Would you like to meet my parents?” That felt a little unreal. Offering that to a man she'd met in a bar. “They’re here for the conference. Are you? Here for the conference?” she asked steadily.

Will laughed, and Sue felt ridiculously pleased instead of offended, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. But just as an interested observer. And you? I’m afraid I don’t know your name?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry! One gets used to having a name tag at these things. I’m Sue Collier! My father is Stephen Collier, the keynote speaker.” She reddened with embarrassment. A moment ago she'd not wanted to admit to her father. Now, for one man's attention she was dropping his name.

If Will noticed her flushed face, he gave no sign of it. “Pleased to meet you, Sue. Are you here to hear your father speak?”

“Not exactly. I work in the field, and I’m attending. Dad’s big on the maths side of the field. I just,” Sue breezed on, “Do field work.”

And she did, so to speak. Will noted that she was not telling him specifics, that she had left something out. The girl didn’t seem to be a liar, but then, on short acquaintance, who could tell? Even so it wouldn't hurt to meet Stephen and Dinah Collier. He'd learned so much about them already. And it was the reason why he was here at the conference. “I’d be pleased to meet your folks, Sue, if you think they won’t mind.”

“Oh, no,” Sue suppressed a laugh, “I don’t think they’ll mind at all.”


End file.
